After leaving the house, Roland could not help but let out a sigh.
How could he not know that his old father's body was already failing?
Although Terrans generally had fairly strong constitutions, Steward Morda had clearly suffered mental trauma, and his body had been worn down by years of labor.
If he had rested properly and suppressed the sickness in his heart, it might have been manageable. But over the past half year, first the Mountain Folk had caused trouble, then there had been famine, rebellion, war, and struggles over territory. The old man truly could not endure such torment.
Especially when Father himself no longer wanted to live.
"What else can I do?"
With another sigh, Roland felt deeply depressed.
But he pulled himself together and prepared to live every day earnestly.
This was his creed—never drift through life in this world. He had to live with a style that was uniquely his own, striving never to regret anything until the day he died.
It was precisely because of this personality that, in order not to regret it, he had stolen money and left his hometown on the very day he came of age, traveling far away to study.
Outside the front door lay a clean street.
The South District was primarily residential, though it also had many shops. Many old residents of Xiahui Territory had settled here.
Buildings made of gray brick and cement, then covered on the outside with a layer of fine pebbles, were a remnant of Mountain Folk customs.
Fruit had already begun appearing among the stalls and storefronts on both sides... Yes, the farmland and orchards of Southern Ridge had all suffered disaster, but imported fruit from Canaanmore was still cheap. Their new lord truly had his hands reaching everywhere—he had actually managed